Fynn the Fool

Frequently, Fynn felt he was at war with his discontent. There were times when the sea was enough for him but that was years ago… and now it feels like a lifetime ago. It was being a poor captain that troubled him now. This was as full of discontent Fynn had been in a fortnight. Sitting at his desk, leaning back in his captain’s chair, he rested his head on a hand with his thumb hooked under his chin. Doing his best to fall into a trance. It took longer than he wanted but it finally came; a light and peaceful rest washed over Fynn and he let memory take him. Fynn like his kin experienced memory different. “Tapping into memory.” His mom would call it, his breathing slowed but his eyes lazily drifted open. Blinking slowly. The smile he carried faded.
 
****
Hanging from the rigging, laughing with Kyp, Smudge, Flip-flop, Donkey Dave and Stupid Rick. Fynn could see them barely, his closest friends when he was a boy. The early days of these young sailors, these green lads. IT felt happy, so content. Their joking was interrupted by Chance, the Hadozee first mate of the ship, his shouts muffled and jumbled, much like the laughing was muffled. Then the memory blew away like sand shifting and gathering into new shapes and forms.
A new memory formed and Fynn found himself below deck, a bit older. He eyed his gloved hands and took in the entire crew around him. His mom was giving an inspiring speech to embolden them as they were hunted. His smile felt so pure, he remembered the story and didn’t hear it. His mother’s voice was a whisper, a murmur. The ear strained to hear it, but he remembered. Stealing medical goods from those who would hoard it. Giving it to all along the coast. Then the memory faltered and crumbled. The joy fading and reality reforming before him.
****
 
Fynn rose from his short stroll through his memory and a pleasant nap. Being an elf did have its perks as he smiled to himself, looking down at the paper he had on the desk. Scribbles, some drawings of ships and a few notes, it all looked a bit mad. Fynn blinked his sleep away and looked from his work then took in his quarters. The simple bed to his right with the end table and unlit candle, the desk he sat at needed an upgrade, writing or drawing here would serve for now but it needed his flash of style. He imagined it as a comfortable room where he could hold meetings with his officers. A wet bar to have a drink and if he had company, and a larger bed would accommodate a guest or two too help keep it warm.
 
The lit candle danced before him on the desk as he gazed into the flame. Fynn began to dream of the look of the ship, the colors they would fly and the name… the fucking NAME of the ship! The man has a… a twin with the same damned name?
 
“How would I know there would be a SECOND Barnaby Razorleaf!?” The words were spoken out loud to no one, not even himself really.
 
As he leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk, furrowing his brow. Fynn thought he was honoring a man who brought us misbegotten jail breakers together.
“What are the odds?” letting out an exasperated breath.
 
Outside Pluck could be heard “you speakin to me Cappin’?!’
 
“I do like The Spirit, this old girls got it…maybe The Kindori Spirit? No…” Fynn sighed and shook his head falling back into the chair. “You think someone like me would have had a name ready for a moment like that… I’ve waited my whole life for that moment.”
 
The quiet out in the verse was a bit unnerving, no sound of waves or the rushing of the wind, no need to use the sails. Fynn knew it would still take some getting used to like plenty of other small oddities out in the black. Fynn looked down at the other name ideas he had scribbled down as he reread; Skybreaker, Stardust, Voidstead, Starhearth, The Starsong, The Kindred, Astral Hearthlight, Ori’s Song, The Lady Luck, The Steel Raptor and more but… he knew no more would spontaneously join the list. It was a dizzying business being captain. His worry for his crew pleased him but also it made his stomach hurt a touch. Smiling at a trouble worth habing, he knew how happy it would make his mom, and he hoped it would have pleased his dad too.
“That Barns, he said the man named Captain Voss wasn’t a good man… but how mom had spoken of him. She said dad was a hero…These Elven Navy fellas seemed to be…less than what I could hope for its true. Barns and Dreg were the nicest of them imps to be fair, though I aint met many.” Fynn let his head fall back till he looked at the ceiling of his room. He ran his hands through his hair and stood up. Walking to where his jacket was folded, he re-examined the patches sewn by Songbird, tracing the edges of various patches until it looked ceremonious.
The guy felt compelled to do it, I don’t think he did it to be nice. I’ve patched this thing up for almost 40 years, why’d I let him? Mom told me to take care of it and I did… either way, not bad. I don’t think he knows how much this thing means to me.
 
Fynn opened it up and threw it over his shoulders, slinging one arm in after the other. He was glad it was such a patchwork of greens, not looking like those Navy elves seemed important. He figured he could get some green fabric to match its original state, but Fynn had grown fond of the mess of shades and hues. Stepping to the door he left his quarters. He wanted to see how Corinna was settling into her own new space aboard. Walking across the deck he smiled as the… his crew went about their day. Making ready to spend a bit of coin after completing a substantial job for Liza and her people. Fynn did wonder how much water was on that big comet they towed back. His smile widened thinking of his first ‘job’ finished as captain of a ship.
 
“Enjoy life my boy, take it in and savor it. Nothing lasts.” Fynn thought of some of his mothers’ words.
 
Fynn crossed the deck and found himself beset on both sides by Pluck and Duck. Swing stood some distance away tying a rope off on a cleet. The two kobolds seemed as animated as ever and Fynn didn’t want to dampen their exuberance, despite his lack of time.
 
“Cappin’ a moment if ya please. We was wonderin’ if we could get a word in about our new headin’, Duck has ideas for all manner of... he gots lots a writings on those papers.” Fynn stopped and spun and crouched in front of Pluck and Duck.
 
“If you think it wise Duck, I find no reason to protest. See to it lads!” Fynn flashed a smirk and rose to his feet, and he gave a nod to Swing, and he descended the stairs to head below deck.
Fynn went below deck and checked some of the crew quarters, he found Corinna unpacking in the far end away from the rest of the occupied bunks. A waif of a thing, her pale red skin was a rare sight. Tieflings always just held an air of devilry, and Fynn had an affinity for devilry. He stepped near the door into the crew chambers and gave a knock on the nearest wall.
 
“I could make more private accommodations for you, or you and Narry could get your own…”
 
“This will do for now… we shall see after you get a full crew.” she said setting her effects down at a box near her bunk, a bone that had some type of inkwork on it and a wooden bird carved by hand rested near her bag.
 
“Very well, she is due for some upgrades when we arrive. So, it should be more presentable. I… is that ink on that bone? I knew someone who did scrimshaw years ago, I just draw sometimes… not often and at sea paper doesn’t… well it…for a regular sailor it. What you’ve done makes more sense. I like it.” Fynn’s face flushed, he knew he was a fool, it was like he wanted her to think it too and the grin he bore didn’t help.
 
“Oh, thank you. Its calming it lets me drift away.” She took a breath. “I’m tired of searching for options, or answers. Liza was so generous for so long I couldn’t stand to disappoint her anymore… knowing how much influence and power she has the… the Prince…I don’t… I don’t want to be a burden…” she trailed off looking down at her whittled bird and inked bone. Fynn took a few steps toward her and held a handout to stop her. He couldn’t help but stare at her for a moment.
 
“Hey, hey, hey it’s okay. You’re alright and you are no burden.” Fynn paused to let those words sink in before continuing. “Trust me, we have some lads on this ship that need some whippin’ into shape real green fellas. Remember I offered you a place with us the night we met, and if you don’t take to this life then… may haps, we find some place you think you could call home. No one is here unless they wanna be, or… have to be… a few of us couldn’t go back to our planet if we wanted right now.” Fynn frowned as he said that last bit.
 
“Thank you, Flynn. I will consider that offer, I have had so little say in most of my life, a home would be nice. Even just a place to belong.”
 
“It…it’s Fynn and I’m so sorry about that but you’re very welcome.” Fynn tried to hide his disappointment. He did his best not to keep track of how many times he had been called Flynn since his breakout of the Wyrms Rock holding cells.
 
Is Flynn a common name out here? Do they all know a, Flynn? MarV started by mocking me, now he has called me Flynn at least three times the last couple days alone… is this it? Is this my life now?
 
Corinna stared at Fynn as his chin lowered clearly in thought. Her eyes grew a bit concerned before interrupting him. “Umm I…I tried practicing my magic in those days you were gone.” *a simple magic effect happens here* Corinna smiled lightly as it stopped, pleased enough with herself. “It isn’t as easy as you made it seem.”
 
Fynn was drawn back to the moment with the magic catching his eye “Hey that’s great!” then he snapped his fingers and began clapping softly as if he was joined by a few more clapping hands. “We all start somewhere. Things have just sort of been happening to me, I can’t quite explain it. Like a warm voice calling out to me, but not a voice… We could practice and learn together, shall we?”
 
“I think I could do that.” Corrina smirked as they looked at one another, her smile faded. Then her brow furrowed and arched with concern. Fynn liked the way it did, it went well with her horns. He hoped he didn’t blush, but he rubbed his neck subconsciously to distract himself. “We make for the Rock of Bral?” the worry in her voice was clear.
 
“Aye, the ship will be repaired and get some upgrades. We have some coin to spend if you were in of need anything? If you wanted to stay near or around the ship to avoid… attention we could try to arrange that.” Fynn stepped back giving her space.
 
“Okay, I…I’ll think about it.” She finished organizing what little personal items she had on the crate next to her bunk. A moment passed, they could hear Marv and the kobolds arguing as they walked by the stairwell. Armitage wheeze-honked someway off. Grumpy at something. Corrina was placing her bag, Fynn was distracted by the arch of her brow before she turned away and the way her hair fell around her neck. He felt himself blushing and gave his head a quick shake before mustering courage.
 
“You know I mentioned your name being beautiful when we first met, but not why. Thought it was a bit…uh forward but… in some people’s tongue back where I grew up, it’s a name for the brightest star in a constellation devoted to sailors. A particular star that guides lost sailors’ home… its saved me and mine a time or two, I’d been long dead. If you got nothing else, try to remember that.” Fynn had backed himself near the gangway to the upper deck and smiled giving her a nod, doing his best not to be overbearing. “Word will go out when we are near to approach the port of Bral, Corinna.” Bowing lightly as he left her to it.
Corinna sat watching Fynn go, a bit confused and maybe a bit comforted.
 
Fynn stepped up and climbed the stairs. The Rock of Bral was growing larger in the distance. The frequency of ships grew as well as they made their way. Fynn smiled looking up at all the ships out there, he wondered if he would tire of this as he strode to the helm giving a nod to Armitage as he passed. He would have to correct the blunder he made with him; he let his ego go too far, one of his many flaws. It wasn’t always easy for Fynn to explain his failures, but he wanted to. Armitage will take time, just like Songbird. Fynn couldn’t admit how much he needed them, a crew was a family to him and he needed it. The last years were hard, and he didn’t want to see more hard years like that. He watched his crew mill about the deck, his mates preparing to dock at the Rock of Bral. He smiled as they held their own conversations, climbed rigging and tied off sails and batten hatches.
 
Pleased he shouted out “Land Ho! Prepare the ship lads, we got business below! Make fast! We got our futures to seize!”
 
“The Razorleaf” made its way to the Rock of Bral slowly but surely, its crew unaware of what would await it when it arrived.